


I can't believe it's not Butters!

by LozisLaw



Category: South Park
Genre: Abusive Parents, Bullying, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Crossdressing, Crushes, Dark Character, Dress Up, Dresses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s09e09 Marjorine, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Angst, High School, Identity, Identity Issues, Love, M/M, Makeover, Makeup, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Secret Crush, Secrets, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Wigs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23874709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozisLaw/pseuds/LozisLaw
Summary: It's a dark day on the Butters show.Marjorine comes out of hiding, after years of being pushed deep down.How will everyone take it? Butters fears the worst, but there's only one person's opinion that really matters to him.
Relationships: Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 22
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

The powder dusted the already slightly pink cheeks, mostly red out of secret embarrassment. The possibility of getting caught is ever real, and ever possible, so Butters has to be on his toes. He uses the wispy brush, to spread the colour evenly to make it pretty and defined. It’s the first step, a few others to go before the process is complete. The room was getting darker, the afternoon sunset fading from Butter’s bedroom and creating a haze of subtle orange.

The soft powder was a peachy pink colour, and it liked to misbehave by making a mess on the inside of the compact box holding it. The problem with this mess, was that it stuck to things, furniture, and it was nearly impossible to clean up without remnants of guilty pink dust sticking within eyesight. The act was so guilty, really, which was sad, because the powdered blush was so innocent looking, it did nothing wrong. None of the make up did wrong. Only Butters did wrong. He knows, and it eats at his insides like a hungry little squirrel scrambling for nuts, only damaging organs in it’s hungry rage. But he doesn’t stop. It’s not healthy, he knows. But he can’t help it. It’s his little hidden squirrel in his closet, or chest. Wherever it is, it eats at him until he’s nothing but a lying, vulnerable sinner that certainly going to heck.

The squirrel had been eating at him for a few years. He knows it’s wrong, and having been so guilty so long, he’s nothing but a festering bag of wrongdoing. He can’t even smile anymore without feeling heavy with guilt. He’s lying to everyone. He’s lying to himself. And worst of all, he’s lying to his parents.

Next was the eye shadow. He didn’t like using much, because he’d discovered a while back through overhearing a conversation at school that girls who wore lots of eyeshadow looked like sluts and whores. Butters was quietly horrified when he heard it, because he’d always worked under the assumption that the more make-up someone wore, the prettier they were. Boy was he wrong, but he’s learnt now, it’s the light delicate finishes that work best. He likes the blue eye shadows, the colour of the sky, because it matches his blue jumper, and reminds him a little of the sun. His blonde hair is the sun at the top, and his jumper is the sky. When he’s doing this, the eye shadow replaces the jumper in it’s job being the sky. Butters just wants to look happy and sunny, if nothing else. He lightly shades in a thin line on his top eyelid, leaning close to the mirror to be precise. It looks good on it’s own, but Butters liked adding a nice little shade of white, to brighten it all up. He observes his work, glancing at the door through the reflection of the mirror to make sure it’s still firmly closed, his heart pounding a little louder.

The initial curiosity has long passed, now resembling something more like addiction, longing, obsession. Whatever it was called, Butters knew it was terrible, awful, despicable. A true act of deviance in the eyes of the lord, one he would surely be punished for. It didn’t stop him, in fact the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to keep doing it, deviant or no. The lord couldn’t stop him, he hadn’t so far, so Butters failed to understand the consequences now. Well, except for his father of course.

Next was mascara. He’d seen a few girls wearing lots of it, in thick dark swashes that made their eyes beam out. Butters admired them, but his own character didn’t suit that dramatic look, so he used a very light type. She was sweet, kind eyed, she didn’t need extra lashes to hypothetically bat her eyes at good looking boys. He pulled the stick out of its container, letting it catch the excess black, and leaned close to the mirror. He glanced at the door once more, just to make sure, and then opened his left eye wide and brushed the stick repeatedly up his eyelash until it was covered and darker, more defined. He repeated the action with his right, and blinked multiple times to ensure he got it right. After four years of applying it, he knew how to get it right without smothering his eyes with messy black. He used a delicate hand, and it worked wonderfully for her.

Despite the guilty pleasure of doing this almost daily now, it never seemed to be enough. It wasn’t even just about getting off anymore. It was so much more now. It had become a side of him he hoarded to himself, letting it run rampant in his bedroom on those quiet afternoons after school. He felt secure and utterly naked simultaneously, in a way that healed the bruises he earned from the bullies at school, and gave him new armour. Those bullies like mean old Eric Cartman, and the mean sophomore boys who cornered him on occasion, called him a fag and giving him a black eye. He could tolerate them with the armour he covered himself in, the truth he used as comfort, knowing who he was and accepting it for real, even if he couldn’t be himself any other time than locked up in his bedroom in the afternoon, once his chores were done.

Next was lipstick. Butters didn’t like lipstick. It’s what the bitches in his kissing company wore. He strongly admired their talent for kissing fella’s, but he couldn’t bring himself to wear what they did to get the job done. He wasn’t like that. She was sweet, softer. She didn’t have worldly kissing ambition. Just a few crushes here and there. He couldn’t think about it until he was done, and shook himself out of anticipating the final product. It was safer not to look forward to things, because his parents could come in here any second and ruin his hopes with one swoop and grounding. Though he knows that they’d probably do much worse than ground him if they knew he did this. So he didn’t use lipstick, it was for girls who knew what they were doing. She was a soft spoken little girl, the most she wore was lip gloss. It was shinier, but not as bright or bold at all, just highlighting the natural colour of his lips with a subtlety he liked to think was her whole character. The satisfying slick of the gloss across his bottom lip as he rubbed them together was enough to make him decide he’d go all the way tonight. Sometimes he stopped at the make-up, sometimes he added the wig, and sometimes he put on the outfit. He usually went all the way though, when it was safe to do so, and he was fifty percent certain he wouldn’t be caught.

On certain days, this was his absolute favourite part, because once the wig was on, he transformed, officially, into his secret harbored character. He had to collect the wig from its own secret hidden area in a bag under his stacks of shoes in his closet. He made sure to pack everything in a different spot, because at the level he has to be paranoid, he knows too well that everything hidden together would damn his sinning butt to being chained up in the basement again. He carefully crawled over to the closet, pulling out the bag with care. He was very proud of this one, because it nearly looked the same as his real hair. He loved his own hair, it’s colour, it’s softness, so much that he would love nothing more than to grow it out and be able to absently twist curls with his finger into his hair during class. But he knew it was absurd, because his parents would never allow any part of him to look like a girl. Heck, he got grounded once cos a school photo made him look like one. He couldn’t help that, he couldn’t help looking like a girl. So the wig was his substitute, his beloved substitute. Getting the wig stuck on his head involved a combination of clips, and type of gum that he found in the supermarket one day on a whim, and has harbored secretly close ever since. Once he has everything connected, and the wig is firmly attached to his head with the gum and clips, he prepared for his favourite part. He flipped his hair back, and looked in the mirror, unable to suppress a dopey smile at the result, and his near complete transformation.

He was no longer Butters, punching bag of South Park High, and naïve victim of bullying. She was Marjorine, the sweet natured girl of South Park, who liked getting her snouch pounded on Friday nights. She had no clue what it meant, still, but it sounded like a compliment, so she didn’t question it. Her beautiful long blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders like a river of golden sunshine, and her cute little face was round and perked up like it was ready for kissing. In her head of course, she couldn’t actually go outside like this. Marjorine sometimes wondered what would happen if she went to school as herself, being a different person entirely than poor damaged Butters. She wondered if maybe she would be respected, popular even. The boys would never accept her, if they knew behind her innocent beauty was their prized punching bag. She would just become a bigger target. She still wondered.

But maybe the word, wondering, was incorrect. It felt more like a tumbling obsessive thought, diving into the fantasy that she could drop Butters entirely, and just be Marjorine. Sweet little Marjorine, forever. Forever and ever.

_Stupid._

It was just that Butters was beginning to feel like he couldn’t harbor the secret anymore on his own anymore, like this had grown beyond his own identity and consumed him in a way he could only survive if he stopped hiding. Support from his friends might be nice too, if he was lucky enough to get it. He wouldn’t, but the hope was too strong to resist sometimes. Everything stayed in this little childhood bedroom, not a dark thought escaped his mind at school. His friends knew him as happy little Butters, and they probably would forever. Butters didn’t like people pitying him, he’d been avoiding that since he first learnt that his parents weren’t like the others in town. Marjorine enjoyed her little pity party now and then, but she was the personification of Butters emotions finally coming out, so it was okay. Butters was still pure and untouched, and he would die that way before marring his hard work. Only Marjorine could bear problems, vent about them, cry about them. It’s why Butters wanted to be her, more and more. She could get away with it, Butters couldn’t.

The last piece to this messy therapeutic picture was the outfit, and usually, once she put on the dress, there was no turning back. Everything was released with a desperate flood of emotion and feelings that she could either cry, laugh, or touch herself with. It all depended on what emotion was most prominent once she scoped herself in the special outfit.

Finding a dress and being able to buy it without people turning heads at a boy buying girls clothes was a real hat trick. If not determined struggle. Butters couldn’t buy pretty girls dresses, and he couldn’t effectively lie to clerks and say he was shopping for his girlfriend, because he didn’t have one. He couldn’t lie about everything, and it was just too wicked to lie about having a relationship. He didn’t like girls anymore, Marjorine had taken over too much, and Marj liked what all teenage girls like. Big cocks that know what they’re doing. There was one Butters knew for a fact knew what it was doing. But no- stop. She can’t think about it until she’s finished. It’s too distracting, and she’s put forth all this effort to dress pretty. So he couldn’t buy dresses, but he could make them. Actually borrowing some of his mother’s dresses that he knows she doesn’t wear and wouldn’t notice missing. He pulled them in to fit his own figure, and hand sewed them in. He had to learn how to hand sew, but Home Economics has taught him pretty well. His parents only allowed him to take the classes if he used his skills to cook for them once a week. Lucky for Butters, he liked cooking, so it was more a reward than anything, even if his dad chucked a rage and said it was worse than devil stew. So he kept sewing in secret, and has made a combination of dresses that suit Marjorine’s personality, and everything she wants to be, if she was allowed.

Today seemed like the day she would be desecrating her innocence, so she chose the white dress. It was little more than a thin satin material fashioned to hug Marjorine’s lithe little hips and show off her delicate figure. Butters wishes he was bigger, but Marjorine loves her petite size. The little white dress stops high on her thighs, which is also no accident. It’s made for easy access.

The finishing touch, one that Marjorine always blushes about when she digs them out of her drawer, is all she needs before she looks at herself in the full length mirror on the wall. And whatever comes next, she’ll decide when she sees herself. She dug it from the very bottom corner. She’s only seen these kind of things in porn, to be perfectly honest. They were opaque white socks, that hiked right up to the top of Marjorine’s thighs, but they felt so good, and they looked so good with this dress. She actually looked like the kind of girl-next-door porn star he watched on _Backdoor Sluts 9_. Which came in the part the obsession in the first place. Thinking about as little as the title, made Marjorine a little wet, and she was holding her thighs firmly together. Butters wouldn’t be wet, he’d be hard, but Marjorine is not Butters. Marjorine gets wet, with the sick joker lips that girls had. Another reason Marjorine didn’t like girls. Butters didn’t like girls. Neither of them liked girls, it’s easier to say.

But Marjorine was still a girl, and she finally crept back over to the mirror, opening her pinched shut eyes and gazing upon the final product. The final product.

It was so real. It was truly the only time that she felt like Marjorine, fully, completely. Butters was gone, he was a distant memory. This was Marjorine, wearing full white like she was giving away her virginity, which she hadn’t yet. Maybe this afternoon was gonna be the first time? Thinking this, she retreated from the confronting mirror, and back to the bed, lying on her back, sliding her hands down towards the wetness pooling around her underwear.

Finally, Marjorine allowed herself to imagine him. Him, the person Butters denied having any romantic feeling for, because boys weren’t allowed to be gay in the Stotch household. Both his mom and dad agree. Butters may not be allowed to feel things for this person, but Marjorine can. Marjorine is a flirty teenage girl, she can have silly little crushes on boys. She knew it wasn’t a crush though, it was pure, unfiltered adoration. She couldn’t help it, he was just so darn cute. She was allowed to think silly things, like if he suddenly stumbled into this very room, right now, seeing this little blonde virgin, begging for him to strip her of her innocence, to make her dirty, to sin her back to the mucky place she came from, that he would actually do it. He wouldn’t hesitate, because he loves sex, he loves girls, he loves everything about taking people’s innocence- loves Marjorine too. Sometimes it’s too painful to fantasise, that he could love her, because deep down, in the dark corner of Marjorine’s heart where Butters was being trapped until the wig came off, Butters knew it wasn’t true. That it could never be true. Another reason why this part was so important, because it was the most Marjorine could get, even if she had way more of a shot than Butters in the first place.

But back to the fantasy, because it was easier to think about than reality, he’d just come into Butters room, only to find Marjorine. What was he to do, when Marjorine sucked her fingers in front of him, speaking sweetly around them, asking him, if he’d do her the pleasure of fucking her with his hard, unwieldy wiener. She would beg if he showed any hesitation, but he wouldn’t, because he wants this almost as much as her. She’d pant and restrain any little moans that escaped her throat as she felt him hovering on top of her, kissing her, finally, licking her hot wet mouth open. Giving her a taste of his true life, the brutal edge of living on the other side of the tracks. He’d taste a little like the ash of the cigarettes he smokes, a bitter edge of the otherwise pure sweetness of his kissing, as Marjorine opened more and more of herself. Feeling him hard against her thigh, dragging his hips down onto her, making her throb back with unsatiated pleasure. She’s too far now, she can’t imagine having a vagina when it just feels better to have a wiener, and he knows it, he loves it. He rubs them together as his weight falls upon on the bed, and she feels her underwear leaking out, she’s so close. Marjorine keeps touching herself, moaning his name, wanting more, so much.

‘’ _Kenny_!’’ Marjorine wails as he enters her, so soft, but so big, thick. She can feel every vein as he slides inside her tight walls, throbbing almost painfully, but also so amazing that she can barely stand it. She pumps herself harder, trying to recreate it, imagining how he would feel. He wouldn’t talk much, apart from mumbling praises, saying how beautiful she is, how hot she makes him, how he wants to be the only one, the only one who ever gets her. Marjorine nods feverishly, so sure no one else could compare anyway, and she belongs to him, forever. Just Marjorine. Or maybe he would talk lots, ramble and chat her up while moaning around her. Marjorine flushes imagining it this way, and she guiltily loves it. She loves talking, and her prized fantasy is one that involves lots of chats in between coming. It doesn’t even have to be real talking. But he would do it, for her, because he loves her. No- she can’t keep hoping. Hoping is for Butters, and he doesn’t exist as long as the wig is on.

_Stupid._

They’re both close now, and Kenny takes over for Marj when she whines, still driving deep into her, so good at what he’s doing, because he just is. He pumps her hard, firm, so strong with his big worker hands, kissing her through it, which she loves the most. She loves it so much she could cry. But no, she would smear mascara, and this isn’t one of those nights. Marjorine is coming into Kenny’s hand before long. Into her own hand. Kenny pulls out, sliding out fast, coming all over her little dress, now sweaty and see through. He can see everything, her wiener, her non-existent buds on her chest, her heaving breath, making her stomach protrude. He kisses her again.

Marjorine needs that the most, could honestly go without the sex if she still got the kissing, and when she finally opens her eyes, seeing nothing but her dark room in the afternoon light, come on her thighs, making them sticky. The tears finally come. She doesn’t stop them. This happens every time she gets weak and thinks about something she wants too much to wipe off the sheets along with her come. The wetness clings to her cheeks, but she doesn’t care about her make-up getting ruined, she wants it gone. Marjorine brought this out, and this ugliness always follows the beauty of putting on pretty hair and dresses.

The wig is ripped off, making Butters head burn when clips catch on his real hair, the short tufts that are shaved at the sides. The tears keep coming, but Marjorine is gone, so they have to leave sooner or later too. Butters is a man, he is not allowed to cry. If his parents heard him, they would come into his room, see the wig on the floor, strewn in a mess that he’ll brush back into order when he calms down. The runny make-up all over his face, which he can’t fathom seeing on his face without breaking apart completely, for good. He’ll have to wait a few hours before he can look at himself. They’ll see the imaginary come-soaked slut dress he made with porn as inspiration. They’ll see the long white socks he put on for more sex appeal, though he isn’t trying to appeal to anyone but his imagination, trying to make the guy who always kisses him real. It worked as a kid, imagining things that became real, so Butters can’t understand why it stopped.

Oh right, because he’s a dirty, no good sinner. And he deserves every hell there is, for this disgusting and selfish act.

The dress felt gross and cold now, stuck to him as his come cooled on his thighs. He’d hand wash the dress himself, early in the morning when his parents were still asleep. He couldn’t risk his mother finding it in the laundry. But right now, he just shucked it off, and grabbed a towel from the end of his bed he’d placed beforehand. It was supposed to be for his orgasm, but it worked just as well to clean his face of the make-up. He probably knew it would happen anyway. It usually did. But this was his twisted, poisonous existence, destined for hell for being this way.

If people knew about him, that this was his real twisted reality, they would certainly stop seeing him as the naïve little boy they made fun of him as. They would think he’s a freak of nature, they would pin him as everything he’d been torturing himself about all this time in private. And so what if they did? Huh? He’s been the punching bag all this time, he’s been picked on anyway, and he hasn’t said a darn word or complaint about it. What would turning up at school as a girl change? The types of insults? Bring it on, he thinks, he doubts there anything they could call him that he hasn’t called himself already.

He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly trying to convince himself to actually do this, go to school as his guilty secret. But he didn’t stop anyway, sick of all this deceitful hiding. Maybe he could earn some redemption by being honest to his classmates. He excused it as that, but he knew he was just fed up of being so alone, so misunderstood. Not that they ever could understand, but maybe they could finally SEE. If nothing else.

Butters was talking himself into it, which was nothing different, he did this every time, but this time felt more real, somehow. Maybe too real. Because now he was deciding to follow through. He was deciding the outfit he’d wear. He was picturing folks reactions. They wouldn’t be all bad- surely. It would always be nice to get some support, if he was brave enough to hope for it.

So before he could psyche himself out of it, he decided, with finality. It would all follow on to this moment, tomorrow. He would come to school as himself, finally. As Marjorine. Forever.

Forever.

_Stupid._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, get over it

Butters spent the whole night in bed suffering dreadful panic attacks that dragged him out of fitful sleep every two hours. He would startle awake with a pounding heart, a throbbing head, and a crushing guilt for what he’d decreed himself to follow through with. He couldn’t do it. But he had to. He didn’t know anything anymore, except that he couldn’t make up his mind. What would his classmates say? Would they call him a fag, like before, or would they get creative with their insults? Butters sometimes felt like his friends weren’t true friends, which made him sadder than ever, but he knew it was the truth. Who in the school did he trust enough to confide that he was gay? No one, but a few people he knew would be supportive anyway, surely. Butters just didn’t feel like sharing such locked away information to them, because in all honesty no one hasn’t given him a hard time. Even Kenny, well he’s thrown a ninja star in his eye for one. So no, Butters didn’t trust anyone.

While he convinced himself no one actually liked him, let alone loved him, it only brought about the insane reasoning that it wouldn’t be any actual harm to become Marjorine. And so what if it did?

Every time Butters startled awake, he’d assure himself with this reasoning and drift back off, clutching his pillow like someone was holding him.

In the morning, his meandering pointless thoughts can no longer be avoided in his decision making. He’s decided to do it. So he’ll do it. No one is stopping him, here in the rising sun of his cold lonely bedroom. Only last night did Marjorine come back out, and again she disappeared like a wisp of grass blowing away in the wind. If she goes to school, it will be the longest Butters has ever gone locked away. The thought is terrifying and exhilarating.

He eats breakfast first, maintaining an attitude of joyful indifference to his parents, but unable to look them in the eyes, blushing and returning to his cereal every time a stray thought about loose fitting little dresses and wig gum catches him off guard. His parents remain oblivious, and ignore him over their own conversation and coffee. He can’t eat much, mostly just stirs his applejacks until it’s a gooey slop in the milk. He has to lie and say he’s not hungry when his mother asks why he barely touched his breakfast. That’s not totally inaccurate, but he feels the weight of his words stick to his tongue when he excuses himself up to his room and away from their skeptical stares.

The next part is the real challenge, the moment he worried about nearly as much as bringing Marjorine out to his friends. Somehow he had to get everything on and leave his house without his parents suspecting anything or being any the wiser. He had a few ideas, unfortunately all of them involved leaving through the window. He’d never escaped through the window before, so the challenge was not only getting out and into the nearest branch by his bedroom, but also making sure none of Marjorine’s makeup or hair gets disturbed.

Worry about one thing at a time, he assures himself. First he has to make the transformation, and he doesn’t have hours to do it this time like he does in the silent afternoons his parents are out of the house. The make up gets applied first, Butters doesn’t bother with the finesse of using the multiple eyeshadows, because he’s not trying to convey Marjorine’s full promiscuity to the class. Just her innocence for now. Maybe it’ll save her some beatings.

The thought that Marjorine is going to school to be beat up is nauseating, so Butters tries to be more optimistic about the outcome of this. There’s only one way to find out. Heck, chances are no one would recognize him. Wouldn’t that be something.

Once everything is applied, he takes his beloved blonde wig out of its compartment, and does his routine to set it tight on his head with the gum. Butters decides to add some festive little blue ribbons and ties them into his hair, parting in two so Marjorine has some nice loose little pigtails for her first day. Looking back in the mirror once the hair is all attached, is thrilling, butterflies crawl up Marjorine’s stomach, tickling up to her throat. She looks like a girl, there’s no way she’d be mistaken any other way. How could they make fun of her if she looks this pretty? It’s known at school that the prettiest girls get what they want, they get silver platters of boys, they get their homework done for them. It’s fantastic, and even more titillating to imagine Marj might be getting this attention very soon.

To finish her look, she pulled out a dress she made, one of her favorites, a light frog green color, that flared out at the ends and stopped at her thighs. Marjorine pulled it on, and gave herself a little twirl in the mirror, his cheeks pink with glee. After she admired the cute little dress, she put on some long white socks, fit for an innocent little schoolgirl, and a pair of second hand Mary janes that Butters found and snuck into the house a while back. She’d had no reason to wear them before, in the bedroom, and she realized they were waiting for her to build up the nerve to finally go to school out of hiding, as herself. She added a light blue knit sweater her grandma made her last Christmas. She was even prouder of this one, because it was ironic her Grandma meant to humiliate Butters by knitting him a girl’s sweater for him, but it was the perfect excuse to keep it, given that it was rude to throw away a gift. His parents weren’t proud of it, but they reluctantly had him keep it, after promising to never wear it when grandma wasn’t around. Butter’s wore it in private as often as he could, and he could say it’s the best present he’s received from his grandma, despite her mean intentions. He considered it a badge, really. And now it was Marjorine’s turn.

Marjorine has a mild heart attack when Butter’s mother knocks on the door and says it’s time to go to school. She knows this, of course. The threat that Mrs Stotch could have opened that door just as easily and checked in on Butters, who has disappeared, would find what she viewed as her son dressing up like a deviant, like what the lord didn’t create him for. She’d certainly tell his father, who would take inevitable drastic measures to stop what he saw as wrong. Butters agreed with him, it was wrong, it was terrible. But he kept doing it, so that made him bad. And he was okay with that.

Almost.

Climbing out of the window is more challenging than she anticipated, and her leg gets snagged on a branch sticking out, cutting into her slightly. It bleeds a little, but she continues, attaching herself to the thick branch by her window, and shimmying down, wishing she’d thought to wear pants at least for this part, while her thighs get scratched and cut by the thick hard tree. For next time then, she decides, also deciding with a beating heart that she’s definitely doing this again tomorrow, whatever outcome her appearance at school makes. This is her now, she’s not backing down anymore. Butters is in the past.

Only his parents will continue to see him. She’s not so brave as to be this in front of them- yet. Maybe give it a few more years, maybe, when she’s moved out.

Once she’s down from the tree, Marj studies her minor injuries from the tree, her hands ache from the rough grip, and her thighs are all red from the friction, and she had some little knicks and cuts. Nothing big enough to worry about. Time to go to school.

Marjorine decides to walk, because going on the bus just sounds like an anticlimax to her announcement that Butters is dead, gone with the wind. She doesn’t actually want such a fuss from everyone, but she wants to be out there, somewhat. Enough for them to know. She has a feeling anyway it’s gonna be controversial.

It’s cold on the walk, and the cuts are starting to hurt. Marjorine wishesshe remembered her gloves. The price of beauty, is pretty harsh. She wonders what the other girlsx sacrifice for their looks. She supposes she’ll be sitting with them now, considering she’d be part of their gang. The idea is exciting, and a little daunting. Butters has never sat with anyone but the boys.

No, Butters is gone, dead, hidden away for purely the use of tricking his parents. She’d Marjorine, she’s a girl, she likes girly things. And she does not like to sit with boys, unless she’s dating them.

The idea that she could now, is what gives her the biggest twists in the stomach. She’s be allowed to pursue what she wants now, who she wants. Maybe- Ken, no. Don’t get ahead of yourself. She’s got bigger concerns.

She’s not really sure what to expect when she arrives at school, walking through the front and through the doors to inside. People stare with disinterest at first, probably only seeing another girl. The closer she gets to the halls, the more people she recognizes, and the more they start to recognize her, their eyes widening, and whispering to their friends. Her steps become slower, more cautious, suddenly gripped by as nerve that’s holding her in a terrified prey state, shuffling forward nervously, her breathing quickening. She doesn’t know why she thought this part would feel freeing, it’s terrifying. But it’s only the start, of course they’d be shocked at first. It’s okay, it’s normal, keep going.

Don’t back out now. Too late.

The closer to her locker, she’s begin to hyperventilate, clutching herself tightly, suddenly ever aware of the artificial heaviness of the wig, the unnatural feeling of the shoes, pinching into her toes, making her step quicker and lighter. She catches the shocked gaze of someone she recognizes from class, and her pace quickens even more, trying to get away from them, away from the quickly shocked- turning scrutinizing looks.

She tries to get to her locker- Butter’s locker, because it feels like a safety point, even if it’s surrounded by other’s lockers- some from his class. Her- her class. Don’t forget it.

Calm down. Breathe. Focus on your goal, don’t look at anyone as you walk.

This works, at least until people start talking louder, asking question out loud, calling attention to her. So much for being unrecognizable. Marj had a feeling that wouldn’t be the case, it’s just too good to be true.

She avoids their faces by keeping her gaze to the floor as she hurries along the halls, trying not to look panicked, even if she probably couldn’t hide it anyway.

She only stopped when there’s a pair of feet in front of her, stopping her in her path. She freezes like a deer, realizing who’s shoes they are. She slowly looks up, everything beating hard, probably pinker than a strawberry, clutching herself tightly. The reality of the situation had frozen her into shocked paralysis.

Why did she think this was a good idea- at all? How could she have lost her mind to show herself at her rawest, to these people. The ones who have never been accepting, have always given her trouble. Why couldn’t she just be sensible for once and not throw herself into more trouble.

She couldn’t answer any of those questions, and her consequence was being face to face to an openly shocked Kenny, his jaw had dropped when she looked up at him meekly.

‘’Butters?’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hee hee hee


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck you guys.
> 
> I say that with absolute love and fondness. <3
> 
> Also!!! This symbol: <3
> 
> I don't understand it. It just looks like a ice cream cone with tits more than a blowing kiss, wtf???

‘’Butters?!’’ Kenny said, standing before him with an open-mouthed, dumbfounded expression. Marjorine had never felt more aware of herself and her beat red blush more than now.

‘’H-hey, Kenny,’’ Marjorine uttered nervously, waving a little awkwardly. Her heart was pumping blood fast, spreading through her face and knees, making her shake. She couldn’t look him in the eye while he looked her up and down, mouth dropping even further.

‘’You- w- what? How- what. Butters what the fuck?’’

‘’It- it’s Marjorine now- if- if you don’t mind,’’ Marjorine stammered, fiddling down her skirt anxiously, finally being embarrassed by its length, especially with Kenny standing right before her. She couldn’t tell if he was horrified, and frankly she wouldn’t want to find out.

‘’Marj- marjorine? Your old girls name from fourth grade?’’ Kenny asked. ‘’Butters, what is going on? Why are you dressed like that?’’

‘’B-butters doesn’t exist anymore, K-Kenny. My name is Marjorine,’’ Marjorine said, urging her voice to get stronger for this momentous part that she’d been practicing the whole walk to school. ‘’And, I’m a girl.’’

Marjorine forced himself- herself, to look Kenny in the eyes, and immediately regretted it, feeling her face burn like crazy. She felt almost dizzy, seeing Kenny’s recognition of what she meant finally break his face. He made a soft noise of understanding, bearing his gaze down on her with his beautiful blue eyes.

‘’Dude-‘’ Kenny said, stepping up to her.

Butters ran away.

**

Marjorine felt like her heart exploding, and it wouldn’t get any better, she just needed to be alone for a little before she could face anyone. She figured she’d hide out in the bathroom, but then the next obstacle confronted her.

Marj was about to open the bathroom door, and realising she was instinctively reaching for the boys door, she hesitated. If she wanted to be treated like a girl by everyone, which she was, she had to be one.

That meant using the girls bathroom.

Marjorine wasn’t sure why she was so freaked out by the premise, but it was everything on the other side, everything it represented, that she needed to be, to get to. She decided then, it would be her goal, to get to that other side.

But she actually had to go to the bathroom now, so any figurative goals she had would have to wait. Marjorine took a deep breath, and went to the girls door, bracing herself. Then she pushed it open, holding in her breath.

Oh hamburgers, thank god. It was empty.

Marjorine quickly slid in and took a stall, wanting to be out of sight even alone as soon as possible just in case another girl came in here.

The girls bathroom was pretty nice, much cleaner than the filth in the boys. There were no markings on the stall doors depicting boobs and dicks and calling certain people cocksuckers like in the boys. There was none of that. Just a few words written on the bottom of the stall door in sharpie. One said: ‘ _to find Wendy, look for Cartman’s dick. Her mouth should be around it’._ Another said _‘tick yes if depressed. tick no if you a ho’._ There were big ticks on both yes and no with different colored markers.

Marjorine sat in the stall trying to gather her wits, and make a better plan than staring at Kenny like a terrified puppy and running away. He knew there was were less kinder people in the school. Much less.

She went to use the toilet, while she was there. Deciding she’d commit and embody a girl completely, she sat down instead of how Butters always went, lifting his top up while he did it. Sitting doing a number one was surprisingly effective in making Marjorine feel dainty and ladylike, what she was missing before. Realising this was the first time Marjorine had actually been out, using public facilities, it was a thrilling jolt of surprise happiness.

That moment quickly ended when voices appeared in the girls bathroom, giggling and chatting. Marjorine froze in fright, hoping they’d leave quickly so she could get out, now swarmed by this enclosed space. They didn’t, just kept chatting in there, and Marjorine burned, realizing she’d have to present herself to get out of here. This was the real hurdle, Kenny was just the test earlier. This was what she wanted, she had to remember. She wanted to be one of them. Butters was gone, it was Marjorine’s turn. C’mon, c’mon. Just do it!

Marjorine burst out of the bathroom stall, red-faced but determined, met with gasps of surprise.

‘’Butters? What are you doing in here! What the hell are you wearing?’’ Bebe asked, gaping.

‘’You’re not allowed in here asswipe!’’ Red snarkily said. Marjorine felt like crumbling, but she held herself up, hands shaking. Have an objective, follow it, and don’t look them in the eye

‘’It’s not Butters. It’s Marjorine, and I- I’m allowed in this bathroom,’’ Marjorine may have been practicing this too, amongst a few other things. Red and Bebe continued gaping, and Marjorine shakily walked up to the sink and washed her hands, refusing to look herself in the mirror.

‘’Butters- Marjorine, wait- your little costume from Heidi’s sleepover so you could sneak in and ruin our party?’’ Red asked.

‘’Is Cartman behind this?’’ Bebe suspiciously asked. Marjorine was hurt, but she kept herself strong and turned back to them, glimpsing upon herself in the mirror as she turned, and getting a flush of confidence. She looked really good. She’d been practicing, and it paid off. What a relief.

‘’No. He doesn’t know,’’ Marjorine said, her stomach churning at the premise that very soon he would find out. His reaction was the one Butters feared the worst. He’s never been kind to the female gender.

‘’Why are you even dressed like that?’’ Red asked, crossing her arms. Marjorine’s chest plunged.

‘’I- because- I- ‘’ Marjorine never thought she would be lost for words. What was her reason? she had one, she did. These two girls intimidating, accusing stares, put him off. Put her off. Putting her off even thinking of herself that way. Oh geez.

Marjorine avoided answering that by rushing past them and escaping the suffocating bathroom, holding her chest to secure her pounding heart from falling out of her ribs. Her face burned, but she didn’t look up until a gasp followed across the hall.

‘’Holy shit! Butters?’’ Stan exclaimed, standing alongside Kyle as they goth stared in shock. Marjorine was quickly getting sick of the shocked faces on everyone she saw today.

‘’Hey, f-fellas,’’ Marjorine waved, standing up straight again and adjusting her dress that had hiked up a little when she ran out.

‘’What the fuck dude,’’ Kyle gawked, looking her up and down. Marjorine ran away again before they could get another word in.

**

Marjorine never thought she was actually be this way. She expected herself to finally be confident and finally stand up to the big forces Butters never could. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It was all wrong. She never ran away from every confrontation in her mind, never. But her legs moved before her frightened brain could, and off she went every time.

The stares were probably the worst part of all. It burned all the scorns and disgust without being spoken, making their opinions all shady and even more awful than if they were to scream ‘faggot’ to Marjorine’s face.

‘’No way- no fucking way.’’

Marjorine winced and turned, preparing herself for the next hurdle, the next taunter. Of course it was this one, she never could catch a break.

Cartman didn’t even look her in the face two seconds before he erupted with explosive laughter, leaning against the lockers. Marjorine felt like her chest had been bleeding out all morning, and this was the bazooka, properly murdering her hopeful spirit that this could work. Of course it wouldn’t- didn’t. Nothing good that came from Butters ever lasted. He always got the short end of the straw. And Marjorine came from him. So she was doomed to fail too. She only wished she’d considered this before blemishing the name Butters had held so dearly for years to this harsh crowd that would never- and have never respected anything soft and fragile.

Butters was remembering now, that he should have learnt back in fourth grade not to release anything soft unless he wanted it crushed and destroyed.

Stan and Kyle came back through the halls, joining next to Eric as he cackled his face purple, pointing at Butters in a dress with full blown hilarity. Butters felt like an idiot, and suddenly he needed to get this humiliating make up off before Eric videotaped it.

‘’Fatass, don’t laugh at him you asshole!’’ Kyle said, punching Eric’s arm.

‘’Kahl! Are you fucking looking at this like I am! Butters is in a fucking dress! And I didn’t even make him do it this time!’’ Eric fell on the floor, wheezing and laughing, losing steam, only to get more in. Butters was burning all over, his bare legs shaking terribly, feeling like he’d been stabbed in place here, frozen in place with arrows shot into him. Marjorine had disappeared, wounded horribly.

‘’Dude, are you like- trans?’’ Kyle asked. Stan punched his arm, and Kyle glared. ‘’What? It’s a legitimate question.’’

‘’Ah-‘’ Butters said softly, inaudible as Stan and Kyle spoke over him.

‘’It’s a pretty tactless way to ask dude, I mean, do you know how vague that can be?’’

‘’Of course I know dumbass! I just thought Butters would appreciate me cutting the bullshit if they really wanna be that way.’’

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand. ‘’What? What Stan, don’t give me that fucking face. You know I’m right. If people stopped walking on eggshells about the whole concept, our society would progress so much fucking faster, and you know it!’’

‘’Just- dude, whatever,’’ Stan sighed, walking away from the conversation. Kyle scowled for a few seconds, then chased after him, calling his name in a tone that implied they weren’t done. Butters watched after them for a moment, then stiffly back at Eric, who was breathing out the last few attempts of his laughing. His face a significantly bluer shade.

Butters looked down at himself for a beat, toeing at his Mary janes he bothered to get for the occasion of introducing what was going to be the new classmate. They made him look girly, at least. Before his face and body was revealed, he supposed. He’s just relieved he didn’t put in fake boob cups. That would have dealt the final blow right now, and kill them both where they stood.

There was no point standing around giving Eric material to lose his lungs over, so Butters puttered away in shame, avoiding the eyes that followed him down the hall.

One thing Butters realized should have been second instinct was the eyes in the back of his head. He’d been using them his whole life, because little Butters wasn’t new to the concept of bigger kids using him to serve their nefarious needs. For some reason Marjorine didn’t think they would be necessary, for who would be cruel enough to beat up an innocent girl? Reality was just crashing around Butters today, because when he left the hallways and went outside to ponder his life, three shadows followed him, and he realized. He wasn’t a girl- not really, he never was. He’s just a boy pretending to be one.

Kicking himself internally wasn’t the priority so much as cowering as the three older figures towered over his shortness with malicious intent in their cold hateful eyes. They were a year old than him, he realized as they cornered him at the side of the school where he walked out.

‘’You playing princess dress up today faggot?’’ the biggest one laughed, looming to their lesser for agreement, which they offered in the forms of leering grins meant for Butters.

‘’L-leave me alone,’’ Butters tried, hating himself for his voice hitching in fear. It was fear, he couldn’t stand up to these guys. Heck, the only person he’s actually beaten up is Scott Malkinson, and he was even weaker than Butters! He couldn’t stand a chance here. But he was very used to this process. God knows how many times, he doesn’t want to think about it. For some reason, realizing he was wearing a long blonde wig, suddenly, and that was what these bullies were seeing, felt like the worst omen Butters could’ve hoped for.

‘’Why’d you even come to school dressed like that when it just begs for someone to beat you up,’’ the stouter one said meanly, stepping closer to pull one of Butters’ bows out of the wig. It snagged some of the wig, which pulled Butters along, wetting his eyes pathetically in pain. They dropped the bow and crushed it into the ground with their boot, while Butters watched and tried not to shed anything. He couldn’t, it would only damn his fate with these three.

His jaw was clenched tight when the big one pushed him, making him stumble backwards. They moved forward to him.

‘’Stop it!’’ Butters cried. Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck._

Now he was crying, wibbling and trying to somehow suck the tears back up inside him so they couldn’t see. But they could, of course they saw. He was already doomed, he had been since he first put on that wig he found for sale those years ago. Realizing that all the good luck Butters thought he was getting from slowly getting braver enough to come to school as his hidden secret, was actually bad luck. It felt like his ribs, heart, lungs, organs, blood and everything had been ripped out and stomped to pieces, and shoved back in quickly, all in the wrong spots, making him shake and cry in confusion at the hurt consuming everywhere in his body.

Expectedly, they starting properly hitting him after that first tear fell, and Butters gave up and let them do it, his soul mashed to bits. He couldn’t care anymore, literally, there was nothing to care for.

His body, because it was a boy’s body, not a girl’s, was a mess of confused pain, hiding his face as he fell to the ground and they started kicking him, throwing in insults that shot him to bits like bullets, because they were right. All of their taunts, all of their meanness, it was true. He was just fag, he was a little princess, he was a freak. He let them hit him, because he fucking deserved it.

‘’Get up fag! Be a man, you’re a man-‘’ _kick,_ ‘’not-‘’ _kick,_ ‘’a fucking-‘’ _kick,_ ‘’girl!’’

Butters replied by weeping, his well intentioned make-up sticky on his face, probably making him look like a monster, or a whore.

‘’Hey!’’

A chillingly deep and menacing voice shouted out above the volume of the three boys hovered above Butters. Butter blinked his eyes open as the three bullies turned to the voice.

‘’Stay out of it, faggot. Or we’ll beat you and boyfriend’s face in!’’ the big one said. Butters didn’t leave the ground, too defeated in his soul to even care. This one was probably here to join in.

‘’You dumb cunts seriously can’t understand that _‘fag’_ doesn’t apply to gays anymore. Get a goddamn dictionary you illiterate assholes,’’ the voice said, moving closer, his weirdly familiar dark voice getting deeper as it got closer. ‘’And if you don’t leave Butters alone right now, I’m gonna kick you all so hard that your asses go up your throats, and you’ll have to start eating through your asshole and shitting out your fucking mouths.’’

Butters peeked up again, watching as the three boys looming over him diverted their attention to the voice. Butters recognized it now, his heart doing a little fluttery thing that he couldn’t manage to encourage right now. He could manage to watch with mild anticipation and shock as Kenny approached them and landed the first hit, a strongly packed punch right into the big one’s cheek, knocking him backwards and onto the ground.

‘’Don’t fucking look at me! Kill that fucking motherfucker!’’ the big one yelled, holding his throbbing cheek, to the other two when they regarded him with shock. Butter whimpered at the sight, but didn’t discourage Kenny from doing it again, managing to get another good hit before the third guy got him good in the stomach. Kenny heaved, making Butters hitch in breath when the one who got him loomed over him angrily. Butters could practically feel the palpable fury in the courtyard surrounding them. Butter sat up a little, his ribs screaming in pain.

Kenny spat out, his eyes looking deadly black, which was mostly scary. If Butters wasn’t incapable of speech right now, he’d cheer him on. He stood up straight again, and like a quick cracking whip, used his known agility to get past their brute punches and hook them in the sides, doubling them over before they knew what hit them.

The big one had resurfaced to the fight, pounding his fists threateningly. ‘’You don’t get away with that so easy dipstick.’’

‘’Really? Cos I’m pretty sure I have,’’ Kenny said, referring to the defeated opponents clutching their stomachs in pain. The big one smiled, which made Butters stomach lurch.

‘’You haven’t gone through me yet,’’ he said domineeringly, cockily. Kenny just blinked.

‘’Oh, I’m sorry, you thought I didn’t mean you too. Right, I get the confusion. I did tell you I’d kick your ass up your throat. Hope you don’t mind it’s your balls instead.’’

And then, just like that, Kenny landed a massive kick right in that bullies balls, with a loud satisfying and brutal smack.

The big bully wheezed and collapsed to the ground immediately, his face exploding red and holding his crotch in unimaginable pain. Butters watched in surprise, the breath he was holding that whole time was finally released, though he wasn’t sure why his heart seemed to lift again after being tricked into thinking it was dead. He realized it was because Kenny fell to the ground in front of him, his deadly black eyes now just huge and pure blue.

‘’Oh my god, Butters! Are you okay?’’ Kenny asked frantically, brushing his hands all over him, across each rib twice, making Butters wince. Kenny winced himself when it happened, and he stuttered a breath.

‘’Kenny,’’ Butters said softly, pathetically, barely a whimper. Kenny moaned and brushed the back of his finger over the first tear that fell since the fight, making Butters be forced to close his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at him while looking so pathetic. He was sure he was a mess. His dress was all dirty from the ground, and his make-up was surely smeared and horrific now. He hated that Kenny was even looking at him right now. He wished to be ignored, like every other time. God, why now? The one time he looks at him, it has to be now?

‘’Dude- Buh- Marjorine, what happened?’’ Kenny asked, and that was it, the last thread that was holding him together. Kenny called him Marjorine, the now dead name, the nothing. Butters exploded the secret and burst into tears, sobbing into Kenny’s neck when Kenny automatically leant forward and hugged him, both of them on the ground now, vanquished bullies around them.

‘’K-Ken- Marjorine’s dead- she, I killed her,’’ Butters cried, blubbering embarrassedly at his patheticness. Everyone always told him his name was for a reason. He melted, he was a wimp, he was Butters. He should have never tried to change it, because he couldn’t get rid of who that was. Butters was still in there, poorly concealed by a healthier substitute. He can’t be himself, because this happens, he can’t change, because it just falls off and reveals himself immediately.

Fuck hope. Fuck happiness. Fuck Marjorine. Oh hamburgers.

Kenny stared him, failing at wiping away his ever flowing tears as they dumped down Butters cheeks. Then, to Butters confused shock, he kissed both his redden cheeks and sighed.

‘’We’ll figure you out dude, I promise,’’ Kenny said, rubbing Butters’ shoulders.

Butters cried again, nodding furiously, not believing that at all, but willing to fake it in order to keep hugging Kenny. Right now, that’s all that mattered. So what that he’d soon let go, in his mangled heart, Butters never would.


	4. Chapter 4

Kenny led Butters back inside the school, while Butters sniffled and hid from the even harsher stares than earlier. Kenny had wrapped him up in his parka, and Butters used it like a shell while Kenny guided him, holding him by the shoulders. Butters felt a broken few organs, but Kenny’s embrace was so warm. He didn’t want to leave just yet, no matter it would hurt worse when he finally let go.

They passed Stan and Kyle and Eric, and Butters completely shut down while they all stared in shock. Butters had no idea what he looked like now, and frankly would never want to find out what the combination of blood and tears and bruises did to Marjorine’s makeup, and to Butters’ face. Even thinking her name made him wince. It was too much to even contemplate right now. She came out, just like she bravely decided. And her very worst fears and outcomes came true. She would never risk that again. Never, ever, never.

‘’Oh my god! Butters- what the fuck happened?’’ Kyle asked, stunned.

‘’Were you beaten up?’’ Stan asked in horror.

‘’Guys,’’ Kenny said, sighing and pulling Butters tighter into his chest. ‘’Can you please just fuck off for a bit, yeah?’’

‘’Dude- you should go the nurse!’’ Kyle said in concern. Butters sniffled at the idea. He’d spent too much time there as a kid, and he had to always answer what happened to the nurse, and he’d have to lie every time. Lying was his worst fear. It was probably the biggest reason he did this today. Maybe he just couldn’t handle the secrets and lying any longer. He just couldn’t be happy whatever he did, he was beginning to realize.

‘’I could have predicted this to happen,’’ Eric snorted.

‘’Dude,’’ Stan said admonishingly.

‘’What! It’s obvious Stan. The fucker’s wearing a dress and makeup- what did you expect? For people to dance to his new identity and link hands in peace? No, get fucking real.’’

By that point, Kenny was already leading Butters away, and he only heard that from the distance. The actual truth of it stung, because of course he was right. Eric tended to be right when nobody wanted him to.

Kenny brought Butters into the boys bathroom, the same ones he’d been used to since seventh grade. The short lived bliss of the girls one was just that- short lived.

Once in there, Butters allowed himself to have momentary thought about what was happening. Kenny was there- brushing his long fingers against Butter’s sore cheek, moaning a soft noise in his throat that choked Butters of breath. Something was stuck in his throat that refused to come out, making him croak.

Kenny had saved him from the bullies. He had wrapped him in his orange parka without hesitation, and led him to safety, away from everyone else. Butters felt like weeping at the realization of it all, and the worst time where he couldn’t do more than stare at him in fear, begging with his eyes not to trick him and be like all the others. Kenny didn’t say anything.

He just handily lifted Butters’ whole body up and placed him down on the long sink counter, his legs swinging from the air as Kenny slowly pulled down the parka.

Butters watched him do it with dry crusted eyes, stinging from the air, trying not to move his body out of fear he might spook Kenny like an antelope and stop him doing this thing that Butters was hanging onto like a lifesaver. Kenny showed no risk of flight, but he couldn’t trust anything anymore.

‘’Marjorine,’’ Kenny started. Butters broke out a sob lodged in his throat, shaking his head fervently.

‘’D-don’t call me that! She gone- she’s dead. It’s Butters- I’m a boy, nothing else. It was a mistake,’’ Butters said, shaking.

Kenny swiftly hugged him to stop his shakes, and Butters gasped a blubbery sob into his shoulder, holding him for dear life. Kenny made sad noises, and started stroking Butters hair. No- Marjorine’s wig, which had partly come loose from the bullies pulling it. Remembering it was like dagger being forced into his ribs, so he ignored it in favor of taking in the surprisingly sweet smell of Kenny’s neck and hair. It was like he’d sprayed a whiff of perfume on himself. Butters let it flood his nose and lungs until it was the only thing taking up thought in his brain.

‘’Fuck- Butters. I wish you would’ve told me,’’ Kenny said, his muffled breath in Marjorine’s wig sending him shivers.

‘’N-no, no you didn’t want to know. I didn’t want you to know,’’ Butters admitted. It was easier saying this than thinking about every time he put on that dress, that wig, that make-up, and what he knew he was doing every time. The things he thought about afterwards, when he was enjoying being Marjorine, and how Kenny might want her, if never Butters. Of course he never wanted Butters. Butters was a boy.

So why was he still hugging him?

‘’How long have you been like this?’’ Kenny asked softly, close to his ear. Butter whimpered and kept his eyes shut, even as Kenny leant back and looked at him.

‘’It doesn’t matter now. It was stupid- I’m just stupid.’’

‘’Was it because of fourth grade?’’ Kenny asked. Butters averted his eyes, knowing his blush was spreading on his face, visible to him to figure out.

‘’Y-you and the fellas were the ones who dressed me up like this- y-you can’t blame me now! You did this- why- why, why would you do this?’’

Butters felt like letting himself be choked by his lack of breath rather than continuing to be here, to painfully look at the one boy who’d reminded him that there was good in this town after all. After all the beatings. After all the bullying. Kenny never joined them. Never.

‘’I didn’t want you to do it!’’ Kenny burst out, gripping Butters shoulders and cinching them tightly. ‘’The guys, they did it- and then I saw you- fuck Butters, I didn’t want you to do it. After I saw you- I didn’t-‘’

‘’Why?’’ Butters asked, not thinking when he wiped his nose on the sleeve of Kenny’s parka. Kenny just grabbed the hand that did it and held it- inspecting it.

‘’I would have never just fucking stood there like always and watch you get pushed around if I knew you’d get confused like this,’’ Kenny said, looking Butters back in the eyes.

‘’I-I’m not. It was dumb- I-I’m just dumb. I’m not her- I-‘’

‘’What are you then Butters?’’ Kenny asked, breaking out the rarest sincere and soft face Butters had only seen once or twice in his whole life knowing Kenny. It completely blindsided Butters from any halfhearted answer his tongue would supply otherwise. He couldn’t go ahead and lie to a face like that, and that’s what he’d be doing if he went and called himself a boy. He’s- he’s not. Not really, anymore. Maybe he never was completely a boy after he first dressed as Marjorine in fourth grade for that silly little device.

‘’I- I don’t know,’’ Butters said instead, realizing as he said it how true it was. ‘’I don’t know, Ken. Please- I don’t know.’’

His eyes were welling up again, and Kenny quickly shushed him, and kissed off the few tears that leaked down his sticky cheeks.

‘’You don’t have to know. You don’t. Let’s get you cleaned up,’’ Kenny whispered. Butters nodded in extreme gratitude, feeling absolutely pathetic. He could feel the messy make-up caking on his face, and it felt like how a two-dollar hooker might feel after a night’s work. He felt like a two dollar hooker, but he couldn’t really believe that as Kenny used damp paper rolls to clean off the blood, cuts, makeup, and tears off his face.

‘’Where did you get your make-up from?’’ Kenny asked at one point, inspecting the scraps from falling on his arms.

‘’I took some from my mother,’’ Butters answered, sniffling the last of the sadness evident on him.

‘’She knows?’’ Kenny asked in surprise, looking up.

‘’Oh- no,’’ Butters said, shaking his head. ‘’I would be over if either of my parents knew.’’

‘’Fuck,’’ Kenny muttered. ‘’I fucking hate those guys, seriously. I hate them.’’

‘’Well,’’ Butters said, surprised. ‘’They’re my folks- I-I can’t do anything about it.’’

‘’I’m still shocked you were brave enough to come to school as Marjorine,’’ Kenny said. ‘’Considering who your parents are.’’

‘’I- well, I thought it would just make the first step- and maybe enough people would accept it. A-and maybe then they would too. But- I’m just stupid. I know that would never happen,’’ Butters said, looking down at his swishing feet- the girly shoes he actually wore with the outfit. This morning they felt like such a good idea. Kenny sighed.

‘’I know. I feel like I’m the last person who should be helping you- because anyone else would argue it and tell you to remain positive. But- I can’t- I’ve seen too much. And I know your parents. They’d never accept you Butters- we both know it,’’ Kenny said.

Butters swallowed a lump in his throat, speechless at the truth of hearing it from him. ‘’You’re right. They never will- I know it.’’

‘’So fuck them,’’ Kenny said quickly. ‘’Fuck them for everything. They don’t deserve you Butters- they never did. Nobody deserves you- you’re too good for that. Do what YOU want for once. Just fucking once.’’

‘’I- can’t. You’ll end up hating me like- like everyone else,’’ Butters said weakly.

‘’Can’t you hear me? Butters- you can do nothing wrong to me. You thought I would be disgusted by this side of you? I’m fucking proud- you don’t even know how proud I was when I saw you this morning.’’

‘’But you looked shocked! You weren’t thinking that!’’ Butters said, his cheeks heating up again, with a tingle from the cool dry clean Kenny gave them.

‘’Well obviously I was shocked! You barely talk to me anymore, I couldn’t have known you were hiding this. I felt like you just finally realized the piece of shit I am and went off to better things you deserve more.’’

‘’Oh no Kenny! You were my best friend,’’ Butters said, grabbing Kenny’s hands. Kenny’s expression was stuck between angry and sad, a combination that reminded Butters of his Mysterion days.

‘’Sometimes I felt like I was just invisible anyway,’’ Kenny said, voice growing deeper and sadder. ‘’Of course you drifted away. I was worth nothing to stick around anyway. The detached loner poor kid right? It makes sense.’’

‘’No, no! It wasn’t that- oh gosh no. I felt invisible to _you_! I didn’t feel cool enough to be able to hang out with you guys anymore- e-even Eric said so.’’

‘’You listen to what that fat piece of shit has to say?’’ Kenny sounded heartbroken at this. ‘’I wanted you there- every time.’’

‘’I wanted to be with you there every time,’’ Butters sobbed. Kenny’s eyes finally got wet, after all this time. He never showed signs of crying- as far as Butters had ever seen. He only ever cried when they were kids.

‘’You look amazing as Marjorine,’’ Kenny said, rubbing Butters’ forearm. Butter nodded, heart shaking around at his words. It hurt- his chest hurt.

‘’I hoped you would think so,’’ Butters admitted, breaking open the last confession he could handle without shrivelling back into nothing if Kenny rejected it. But he knew he wouldn’t, because Kenny was good, he would never. ‘’I really did Ken.’’

Butters believed this more than anything he’d ever believed in his life when Kenny softly leaned up and pressed their lips together. His touches were reverent and careful, like he was transporting a delicate baby bird through a highway. Butters felt like crying again, but he couldn’t manage it- his eyes stung, and only a few dribbles of salty water slipped down as Kenny kept kissing him.

All those afternoons. They’d barely even captured the essence of what it what finally feel like to have Kenny kissing him. He expected it to be hungry and fast, overwhelming and attractive in his zest. But it wasn’t, and Butters was shattered at how much more he loved this, how much more he wanted it this way. Kenny kissed him like he loved him, not like he wanted to get in his skirts. Butters would take it this way any day over the other.

And Kenny’s tongue. It was indeed ashy with the essence of cigarettes. But it was so much more that Butters hadn’t even considered. He was warm and welcoming, skillful and bashful at the same time. Butters had only ever kissed girls, back in fourth grade. That was around the last time he liked girls too. This was somehow so much better. He couldn’t begin to explain how different kissing a boy felt like- kissing Kenny. His dearest Kenny.

The pain of today momentarily disappeared, and all he could remember was Kenny’s lips, his taste. Nothing else mattered, and it still didn’t when Kenny pulled away and stared back at him. He was still holding him tightly.

‘’Oh- Jesus Butters,’’ Kenny said, sighing out, eyes fat. ‘’I think I’ve wanted to do that since the first time you dressed as Marjorine.’’

Butters tugged him back by the collar of the shirt before Kenny could get another word in, this time crushing his mouth to his lips. Kenny became enthusiastic very quickly, pushing Butters back on the counter and pinning him to the mirror while he breached his mouth and licked into him like an experienced clam shell eater. Butters had to hold Kenny’s face to avoid becoming overwhelmed by his zeal.

He lost track of time, sitting up there in that bathroom kissing Kenny, stroking his beautiful golden hair while Kenny explored him up and down with his nice hands. They _were_ nice, they lit up Butters body wherever they left their little magical tinkle of shivers. Butters felt like he was flying high, ready to commit to any role Kenny wanted him to. He obviously liked him like this- maybe Butters would just be that- a—a debauched crossdresser or something. If that’s what Kenny wanted. Of course he did, he was kissing him like he wanted to rip his whole filthy dress off.

‘’K-ken,’’ Butters whimpered.

‘’Who are you?’’ Kenny asked again, keeping his eyes closed and mouth hot against Butters’ cheek.

‘’Oh- whoever you want! Whatever you want me to be!’’ Butters said, hoping to impress Kenny enough to get him kissing him again. Kenny opened his eyes and looked at Butters.

‘’Dude- no. No- no, this is wrong. Fuck,’’ Kenny said, releasing Butter entirely. Butters was in such shock he couldn’t think to feel the crashing of his heart the moment Kenny stopped holding him.

‘’Wha-‘’

‘’Butters-‘’ Kenny said, growing horrified. ‘’Oh no, I’ve fucked it up. I’m sorry- you can’t just- and I did that. Oh shit- I’ve fucked you up.’’

‘’But- why. I don’t understand,’’ Butters said, voice cracking and growing younger more pathetic each word. He felt his throat closing in on him, and he barely understood what was happening.

‘’I- it’s wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this for me. Shit- I shouldn’t have kissed you. You have to do it for yourself! Not- for me.’’

‘’But- it was all for you,’’ Butters was still reeling from the dramatic turn of events, and he couldn’t understand why Kenny wasn’t pressing their lips together like they were meant to be. Though there was a looming understanding growing the longer he realized everything.

‘’No- no Butters. I don’t matter. I’m gonna be out of your life by the time you go off to college, so it doesn’t matter what I want. It’s you. I’m gonna be stuck here filling gas or something, long outta your world- this- this doesn’t matter. It’s gonna be you for the rest of your life.’’

‘’But-‘’ Butters’ heart felt shattered, everything he’d feared in those afternoons about confessing coming true- even his dearest Kenny was playing the part. Being his worst fear. A deep aching pit grew in his ribs, and it devoured him bit by bit, testing his breathing ability. ‘’I-I thought you wanted me to be a girl- that way- that, you could be not gay anymore.’’

Kenny turned on him from his pacing, looking wild and frazzled. He parted his lips, staring at Butters, until Butters couldn’t handle it and looked down again.

‘’Are you kidding me? Butters,’’ Kenny said. ‘’I don’t give a fucking shit about being gay or straight. It’s all just meaningless bodies with labels slapped on. I’m not freaked out over what others call me like you. I don’t have strict fucking parents who would disown me for who I wanna fuck, and who I wanna be. You do dude.’’

‘’Ah- you don’t?’’ Butters asked, lacking other words to convey his muddled emotions flooding all over the place. It was starting to get cold in the bathroom, and Butters figured he should probably get off the counter if he didn’t wanna look silly. He was beginning to shiver in the thighs where his long socks stopped.

‘’Butters,’’ Kenny said. He walked back over to Butters, lacking a telltale expression of his current emotions. He inserted himself between Butters legs, and finally released a sad look that Butters could understand. ‘’You’re the most precious and good thing in this world- and I’ve been all over. Heaven itself doesn’t compare to you. So at the end of the day- does it fucking matter to me what’s between your legs? What you’re wearing? Fuck no!’’

Butters whimpered, shaking his head at the pain of the truth Kenny was telling- he couldn’t handle it. What was all this for then?

‘’So why haven’t you kissed me before I dressed as Marjorine?’’ Butters asked, breaking down in blubbers again. Kenny moaned and held his face close.

‘’I didn’t think you wanted me to. But then- as Marjorine. I realized how unhappy you were. I want to help you- I need to help you,’’ Kenny said, pressing their faces together. He was warm. Butters cried.

‘’I don’t know anything anymore- I don’t know anything. Marjorine- she. I still don’t understand why I like her- please Kenny. Help me, help me- I do need it. I need you,’’ Butters blubbered on, holding his shaking thighs around Kenny’s waist to stop him from moving any further away again.

‘’Shh, Butters- shh,’’ Kenny soothed, brushing the wig, Butters’ cheeks, his shoulder’s. ‘’I’m here. I’m gonna be here- from now on. I’m gonna help you figure yourself out.’’

_I’m here._

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the fic, is a play on words of the American 'I can't believe it's not butter' stick, a dairy free alternative to butter. And given that a usual alternative to butter is margarine... Get it?
> 
> The fun we have.
> 
> [Follow me if you choose :3](https://www.instagram.com/lozislaw/)


End file.
